


walk away

by meritmut



Series: i loved you well, when we were young [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 10:16:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/964779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meritmut/pseuds/meritmut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki, a horrible horrible tease.</p>
            </blockquote>





	walk away

It’s a game, nothing more, Loki reflects with smug satisfaction, but it seems to enrage Sif beyond all reason.

She is chatting amiably with Iðunn at dinner, discussing something that to them is no doubt engrossing but to Loki (who holds no high opinion of Bragi’s wife) is of no interest whatsoever, when his right hand just…happens…to find its way along the hard line of her thigh.

Predictably, Sif stiffens like he’d thrown icy water over her head and casts him a glare fit to wither stone, before returning to her conversation as if he hadn’t touched her.

He waits a moment, trying not to smirk, before reaching beneath the table again. This time, she doesn’t dignify him with a reaction. Her shoulders tense but her gaze remains on Iðunn, an amused smile curving her lips and barely twitching at the sensation of cool fingers sliding along her leg.

Unfortunately for Sif, he knows her ability to lie isn’t worth spit.

With carefully-veiled delight he watches the column of her throat shift as she swallows heavily, still refusing to glance his way - and so he looks away too, focussing on the play of soft candlelight on the domed ceiling of the feasting hall instead of the play of his fingers on the smooth skin beneath her skirts, imagining her above him with that warm glow casting lambent shadows across the golden arc of her back, the sable rivers of her hair tumbling down her spine and her eyes…oh, her eyes on _fire_.

Almost involuntarily – caught up in his imaginings, perhaps – his long fingers twitch and it seems Sif has had enough. Or at least, she can pretend no longer. Loki feigns the same astonishment that passes over the faces of their nearest tablemates as she lurches to her feet, mutters some half-hearted excuse and strides away, sparing only a fierce glare for Loki and leaving her near-full cup of summer fruits untouched.

The last glimmers of the amber sunset have barely slunk below the horizon when he seeks her out, following her into the gardens and swiftly picking the shape of her slender form out of the darkness. Delicate shoulders, strong arms, hair an inky wave struck silver by the nascent starlight, the fruit trees around her form a natural bower that seems, to Loki, an opportunity far too fine to pass up.

And her back is to him, which is an opportunity even better.

Crossing the glade until he stands behind her, he leans forward to murmur in her ear.

“You left your strawberries.”

Sif whirls -

\- cup and fruits go clattering to the ground as she clasps him in a kiss that knocks the breath from him, and reminds Loki that _this_ is why watching her storm away from him can, sometimes, be worth it.


End file.
